


I'm burning inside, I'm waiting for you

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky dreams in cryo, Bucky has a mind palace, Bucky is my smol strong mentally unhealthy son, Coping, I write him bc I relate, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Stucky - Freeform, in it they're prewar Steve/Bucky, inspired by my own head ahahah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 12:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8102053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: He expects Steve to shove him off with a sharp comment about squeezing too hard. Instead, he turns his face into Bucky's hair and murmurs, "I missed you."They sway in the small kitchen together and this is all Bucky has ever wanted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so I wait for you like a lonely house  
> till you will see me again and live in me  
> till then my windows ache
> 
> [pablo neruda/100 love sonnets]

The last time Bucky gets to see those baby blue's in person is the first time.

 

One minute he's blinking back tears in Wakanda as the cryo tank closes over him and the next, Steve is folding a newspaper and scowling. Knobby elbows rest on Sarah Rogers' pastel yellow and cream kitchen table. He notes two meager plates and tarnished silverware resting alongside them. Steve is waiting for him as he always has. Way back when he'd stubbornly refused to eat unless he knew for sure that Bucky had eaten, even when he knew he'd get an earful about taking better care of himself.

 

His fingers curl into loose fists on the table and his mouth settles into a disgruntled line. How long has he waited here? Bucky isn't sure how much time passes between walking through that door and studying Steve's silhouette but he could stand right here for the rest of his life without complaint. _His_ Steve is thin with a curved spine and Bucky's palms know exactly what that narrow chest would feel like. His Steve has bangs that skim across a creased forehead, blue eyes that reflect life. Here, they are alive together and the world is no longer ripping Steve from his arms.

Here is Steven Grant Rogers, the stubborn punk with an itch for danger. Here, he is not America's dancing monkey and every childhood scar remains untouched. Captain America's bulk would feel foreign in this place with all of their shared trinkets and laundry hanging from a line on the fire escape. The world can keep Cap, he has only ever wanted Steve Rogers.

And if Bucky were to write their story from start to finish, from desperate late night  _"that's what friends are for"_ excuses to muddy trenches, this is how they'd go out. Here in this apartment where everything is new again and the sun never dims.

 

Bucky presses a hand to the peeling wallpaper and closes his eyes. God he'd forgotten what home felt like, what it smelled like. Without a word he pulls out Steve's chair and causes him to sputter from the force of arms around his waist, tucked around his shoulder blades. With one deep inhale Bucky is aware of the exact measurements of a human shaped hole in his heart and it's almost too much.

"Buck," Steve whispers. The edge he'd welcomed Bucky with dissipates as he presses Bucky's face to the crook of his shoulder with one hand clutching the back of Bucky's head and the other gripping his shirt. The harder Bucky trembles, the deeper Steve envelopes him.

It's achingly familiar though they were frightened children when their close knit relationship and complete lack of personal space began. Steve had nearly died of pneumonia and the very minute he was cleared and recovered Bucky had clamored onto the hospital bed with him and buried his face in Steve's chest. The night nurses had given them both sidelong glances because  _"boys don't do that"_ but Bucky refused to let go. In the end, a friendly older nurse named Clara had worked her magic and he'd spent the night curled up next to Steve under scratchy covers. 

"Shh, it's okay. You're here," Bucky soothes. Somewhere in the chaos and memory wipes he'd built and rebuilt this world on beating hearts and scars that refused to mend. Only he'd been a visitor passing through his own creation more often than not. The cold wind had ripped through it every time and left nothing but a mist in place of _"I stored you here so they couldn't take you away. I hope you'll stay with me."_

Only now he doesn't have to go it alone and this building is no longer in a near constant state of decay.

 

He expects Steve to shove him off with a sharp comment about squeezing too hard. Instead, he turns his face into Bucky's hair and murmurs, "I missed you." The weight of those three words steal the words right out of Bucky's mouth and he cannot speak around them. Instead, they sway in the small kitchen together and this is all Bucky has _ever_ wanted.

After a long moment, Steve steps back and the beautiful vulnerability in those eyes shutters. He crosses his arms and gives Bucky one of those _I'm mad at you for taking too long but I love you too fucking much to let you get away with it._

"You forgot the banana bread. That was supposed to be our breakfast tomorrow," he states.

Bucky laughs, shakily. That's his Steve alright.  "Sorry warden, I'll do better next time."

Around them, the shanty tenement apartment appears to exhale. Like Steve, she has been standing in line for decades. Her wallpaper is chipped, thin carpet is stained and she's rough on the outside but once Bucky walks through that door he's at the mercy of a flood of memories that hug like a warm blanket in the dead of Winter.

 

Steve huffs and closes the gap between them. "Yeah well. Maybe this'll help you remember next time." Suddenly Bucky's face is cradled between graceful artist hands, pale skin to jawline as warm lips brush over his own. It's a question and an answer all in one - _is this okay? [please don't ever stop touching me like you are right now]._ For the first time since they were children, Steve's eyes reflect fear as he breaks away but not too far, Bucky notes. This won't do. The last thing they need is more distance. He traces a path down that pale arm and slips his hand into Steve's - he has to know that this love is bigger than the two of them, that Bucky is firmly rooted in place.

He skims the shell of Steve's ear as he whispers, "You forgot to remind me. Maybe this'll help you remember to tell me next time." He doesn't miss the blink-and-you-miss-it full body shutter from Steve's end. With a smile, he dips his head and takes his time in exploring the wet heat of Steve's mouth.

In between, he speaks low, voice hoarse with emotion, "God. I missed you so much. _So_ much, Steve." He kisses the words onto Steve's skin and hopes that they stick on him like a birthmark.

Dinner grows cold and the loaf of banana bread from Mrs. Weinschwartz is forgotten about.

-

The first time Bucky looks in blue eyes, it has been three years in Wakanda and once more Steve is waiting. They embrace and a familiar voice whispers, "I missed you." 

**Author's Note:**

> clarifying because I realize I might've written this part confusing manner: bucky is still madly in love with modern steve, he just sees that little guy from brooklyn when he looks at him. he doesn't see captain america, he never has. 
> 
> also, yk how most love stories have a tragic "you were gone for so long that I moved on" twist? that's not them, not even close. real love grows stronger with time and they've got it.


End file.
